


Let Me Help You (a powerful protection)

by milknut



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mentions of Sex, angst is my jam, first fic, i spread angst on toast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milknut/pseuds/milknut
Summary: The line between Nathalie and Mayura is surprisingly blurred.





	Let Me Help You (a powerful protection)

**Author's Note:**

> hello. first fic on AO3.  
> this is not the fic i wanted to write but i fell in love with this ship and needed to write something for the first time in x years.

They’ve had variations of the same argument before. 

Weeks pass and a pattern forms: Hawkmoth akumatizes a target; the superheroes save the day; Natalie watches, sober, anxious, tablet on her lap—on an armchair they’ve up in Hawkmoth’s lair. Just in case; because her employer is only human.

“Use me,” she murmurs, and all she gets is Hawkmoth’s warning glare.

She can’t be useful like this. If her face doesn’t give her emotions away, at the very least Hawkmoth must feel her anxieties rise and sink. She doesn’t even know why she’s there with him. They’re running out of time.

“You’re useful here,” Gabriel reassures her, though she doesn’t understand how or why. When it’s all over, all he asks for is the brooch. Nathalie declines. Gabriel doesn't ask again; not until the next time. 

Nathalie is a professional, fluent in lip service. She understands.

:::

Nathalie observes, anticipates. She makes snap judgments; carries out marching orders, tactfully. She’s helpful. She’s good at it. It’s the only way she knows how to live, really: study hard, leave the orphanage, get a good job, make a living…It’s worked exceedingly well for her. To an employer like Gabriel Agreste, she’s invaluable. He’s lucky that she likes him.

She calls out to the brooch again. Then, again. What other choice does she have?

Nathalie feels a sliver of herself break; but she does not regret. She won’t.

:::

After the third time, she’s locked out from the lair.

The fourth time, she transforms in the comfort of her apartment, like a normal person without a billion dollars set aside for a secret life.

:::

She places the Tiger and Monkey Miraculouses in her jewelry box before moving to the couch and letting go of the transformation, watching as Mayura’s coloring fades from her skin. It’s too slow.

Seven Miraculouses, yet no closer to obtaining the two that matter most…

Nathalie closes her eyes. She’s a supervillain, tired from fighting kids for their fashion jewelry. God. The feeling, whatever it is, sinks into her bones.

:::

“Nathalie!”

Nathalie jerks awake, literally. Terror suffocates her, and when she finally gasps for breath and opens her eyes, it’s the sight of butterflies that calms her. Masks and gloves that crumble into silver and purple light.

The clock on the end table is only five minutes past. By the time she turns her gaze back to Hawkmoth-now-Gabriel, there’s a retort born from weeks of stress on the tip of her tongue. _You never said anything against a lair of my own. Mayura took those jewels for you, didn’t she? They are in the jewelry box. Mayura isn’t your employee. She’s not me—_

Whatever she wants to say, it stops there. Her boss’ face is…stricken, so close to hers, and a sickening dread somersaults in the pit of Nathalie’s stomach.

“I thought that you—,” Gabriel breathes out.

Nathalie blinks. Oh. She sits upright as his hands fall on either side of her.

“I haven’t felt sick since the first time, sir,” she says gently, “Never since.”

It’s true.

She offers him a seat next to her, and though Gabriel nods, he does not move from his place by her feet.

“I won’t lose you, too,” he tells her.

“Loss is natural, sir,” she reminds him with practiced ease, “as I’ve told—”

“Humour me.”

She sends him a sharp look, and she can’t tell if he purposefully avoids looking at her. She lets out a huff of breath as she slides herself down to sit on the rug, hooking her arm around his and interlocking their fingers together.

“They say it helps to talk about it,” she says, lilting her voice at the end to form a question, a noncommittal.

If Gabriel looks at her, she is purposefully unaware. This is the only way _Nathalie_ knows how to help— Nathalie is not Mayura; she refuses, if only to prolong the charade. This—whatever _this_ is—is how she will always try to help, however long she can, even though it is futile.

Nathalie is trying; she hopes Emilie understands that.

:::

Nathalie never expected to sleep with Gabriel. She knows it was not his intention, either.

She hopes Emilie understands that, too.

:::

Every few nights, Gabriel intertwines his hand in hers, and talks: of Emilie; how they met; Adrien; the Miraculouses. Gabriel is a good storyteller and she pays careful attention, asking questions when needed. What she remembers she writes in a journal, for Adrien, so that he may understand his father and the depths of his love.

She holds no delusions for herself.

If she is being honest, if she probes their encounters, she thinks Gabriel wants more. She senses it in the way he kisses, the way he goads her on in search of something; the way he tells her, sometimes, hesitantly, that it is okay for her to say his name. She won’t, of course. There’s no way that Hawkmoth doesn’t know how she feels, not after Catalyst. That should be enough.

Nathalie takes as freely as she gives. She’ll allow herself that much.

:::

Nathalie has always hoped that he would stop. Even now, she tells him of the danger he is in, the harm he unleashes on Paris, the pain he inflicts on his own son.

Gabriel takes her hand and says, “I will pay for my crimes soon enough.”

Miracles come at a cost, he tells her, and when at last she understands, she shivers, cold all over.

“Let me make the wish for you, sir,” she pleads, and the surprise in his face is not what she expects.

The more complex the wish, the more could go wrong. No, Gabriel’s wish is his alone, though he is touched by her loyalty—

“So think, sir, of what you stand to lose!”

Gabriel does not understand.

“There is one thing more important to you, sir,” she says slowly, “than your wife. Adrien.”

Nathalie recoils at his shock. Had he truly not considered it? 

“Let me make the wish—” 

“No,” Gabriel says, and the certainty in his voice galls her.

He looks at her in a wounded way. 

“No one really knows how the powers of the Miraculouses work,” he says.

“How _else_ would they—” 

“Nathalie!” Gabriel says, firmly.

“No one really knows how the powers of the Miraculouses work,” he repeats, “and nothing of wishes. I am willing to risk _m_ y _life_ , Nathalie, to bring Emilie back”.

“And Adrien’s?” 

“Don’t,” Gabriel warns her, “speak of my son. I will no longer let you try and use his name to guilt me.”

“Sir—”

“And don’t,” he continues angrily, “act as though there’s not a part of you that wishes for something, too.”

Nathalie is confused at first. Deep shame follows, stinging her cheeks.

“I would never—”

“Wouldn’t it be easy, Nathalie,” he says, his voice breaking as he says her name, “if Emilie—”

She slaps him.

:::

It takes her a long time to move. She’s cried so much that her head throbs in time with her heartbeat. She’d make a lovely _akuma_ tonight, she thinks cynically.

_It’s a little late for that now, isn’t it?_

Gabriel will apologize in the morning—profusely, sincerely. Nathalie has already forgiven him. He will lose sleep over her words tonight. She has things to do now: a friend to say goodbye to; a resignation letter to deliver; Miraculouses to steal; a promise to keep.

She washes her face in the dark, delicately patting it dry. When she is ready, she flicks the light on. She can’t help but let out a whimper.

Pink irises gaze back at her.

_Let me help you._

Nathalie takes a breath.

_Let your despair be embodied in a powerful protection._

What other choice does she have?

_Until the end._

:::fin:::

 

**Author's Note:**

> alternate summary: The side effects of the Peacock Miraculous are different for Nathalie.
> 
> whoo~ okay.  
> this ship instantly elevated ML from a [oh shucks this show is cute] to a [THIS SHOW] obsession.  
> this was the clunky attempt to jam a couple of headcannons in one fic against my better judgment.


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